Distractions
by SilverYoko
Summary: He was such a distraction. He really should’ve done something about it sooner. Yaoi


Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto

Pairing: Gaara/Naruto

Rating: R-ish

Genre: PWP/Angst/humor?

Warnings: Yaoi, Language, Angst

Spoilers: None

Beta: None

Summary: He was such a distraction. He really should've done something about it sooner.

**Distractions**

_SilverYoko_

Naruto really was his one weakness. The loud mouthed fool could reduce the "mighty" Kazekage to a simpering mass of human flesh. Not that he showed it outwardly anyway, it was the simplest of things that let others know how much the blonde haired Kyuubi meant to their leader.

He would casually brush against him, or lean on the tips of his toes to get a better smell of the boy's hair.

Three years. They were both eighteen now, well soon to be eighteen. He still had a hard time believing Naruto to be older than him1. The boy was still so bubbly and eccentric, he was always willing to do something or go somewhere.

He'd bounce on the balls of his feet, or clasp his hands behind his back and worry his lower lip between his teeth as he watched with lower lashes as Gaara spoke, briefly, to leaders of other nations.

He didn't know when Naruto had become so…so _normal._ He didn't even know if there was a specific time it happened. Naruto had just always been there it seemed they had been enemies at first. He hated the blonde haired fool to begin with.

He had something that Gaara could never have. Naruto was happy with who he was and had so many dreams. Gaara hadn't a single one. He had been tired of living.

Yet Naruto had also awoken something within him. He had ignored the niggling suspicion that it had always been there. Naruto had just given it the push he needed.

Slowly Naruto had attached himself to his life. Much like a weed. Or a parasite. Yes, a parasite. He liked that one. Naruto had done it so deviously that Gaara hadn't even suspected it.

The only reason Naruto was in Sand Country to begin with was to assure Leaf and Sand that a war would not break out. A good will ambassador was sent, or supposed to be, to ensure this. Naruto had been all to willing to take the ambassador out and take his place.

Now that Gaara was given time to look back on it he found it rather amusing. At the time he had been mildly annoyed and very much angered. He was rather proud of his ability to stop from strangling the boy on the spot.

Worrying his lower lip between his teeth Naruto ordered his ramen rather shyly. His "welcome" here hadn't been what he had expected. Not that he expected much anyway. After all this was the Sand Country. He hadn't expected this though, the stares, the whispers. It was enough to drive him insane.

The bowl was warm and heavy in his hands, he almost drooled outright. But that wouldn't do, Gaara had looked at him oddly when it had first happened. Each time after it still happened, every time he would get a bowl of ramen Gaara would look at him, almost like a puppy. Not that he'd ever tell his temper mental lover that. He rather liked his tongue, thank you very much.

To him Gaara was always a mystery. They were so much alike; they nurtured a past that was too alike for Naruto's liking. Yet there was such a pull, Gaara's aura was enough to send sane people into a wide berth around the Kazekage.

He wanted to figure Gaara out but he knew that would never happen. There were things about himself that Gaara didn't eve know. But the mystery of it only piqued his kitsune curiosity.

At least that's what he had been telling himself; he was so used to it now that it was routine of his recite this to himself when he felt himself growing too attached.

Running a hand through his hair, mussing the spikes further he shoveled a fair amount of beef ramen into his mouth. He didn't chew thoughtfully, he guessed most people would at the time but it was just so _good_! So he shoveled more in, chewing as quickly as he could (so that he wouldn't choke, Gaara would kill him if he choked).

Even at times like these he found his mind straying to his blonde buffoon. It would start slowly at first with thoughts of, "What's he doing now?" or "Moron, I bet he's at the ramen stand again." It would escalate further to, "Idiot, I swear he better be eating slowly. I don't want that vacuum of his to start another choking episode." (He ignored the fact that he was extremely grateful for that vacuum of a mouth on other occasions). Then he would start to worry, he'd (subtly) gnaw on a cuticle while glaring at whichever nin was in front of him for the time being.

He knew about the whispers. He was feared enough that it was hard to hear them though, they had been witness to the death of the comrade that was fool enough to call Gaara out. So they tried to speak quietly now. But it always got back to him (or he was coming around a corner and no one noticed his appearance).

So now he entertained himself with counting how long it took before his stare got to the nin and the man stuttered an excuse as to why he had to leave.

He counted to thirteen before the stuttering started. He got to twenty when the man leapt out of his chair. Twenty-five and the man ran into and out of the door.

Gaara let a small smile creep onto his face as he gracefully stood from the chair. It was always an amusement to see the different expressions he could rake from the human face. The dull, lifeless one was getting droll.

When he was sleeping Gaara watched him. He could feel the eyes on him, as they raked up and down his body. The arm would squeeze his waist protectively every few minutes. Naruto wasn't an idiot contrary to the belief of the villages he knew perfectly well what went on.

It was so easy for him to play okay when no one cared. They all wanted to believe he was okay so it was so easy to play pretend.

Gaara knew better though. Gaara had never played pretend but he could see through the façade better than anyone else. It was another thing that had gotten to mean too much and it left a bad taste in his mouth.

He could be himself around the Kazekage. If he was sad he could mope around the house and drape himself on Gaara's lap as his lover petted him. Or if he was happy he could drape himself over Gaara's shoulders and talk him into taking him out to eat.

He didn't have to put up pretences with Gaara. The Kazekage was able to deal with whatever Naruto had come up with that day. Not that he expected less because he put up with the same thing.

With each passing day Gaara would shuffle his way into his heart, or into his memory. For the twenty minutes that Gaara was able to sleep Naruto watched him. He would take in the calm, peaceful expression and the way he would twitch in his sleep, or mumble vehemently.

He should've taken care of Naruto a long time ago. The boy was so trusting, so willing to please. It would be nothing for him to cease the itch.

At night the demon would whisper to him. He would whisper of the easiest ways to take out Naruto, to make it look like an accident or that Naruto had gotten in the way of an assassination plot.

His neck was as tan as the rest of his body; Naruto had a full body tan. Sun kissed skin covered every inch of his body. He would bite his lip till he tasted blood, his hands hovering over the thin neck. He would listen as frail breathing filled his ears, as the slightly larger form would cuddle against him.

He would watch as the body would spoon against him and the warmth would seep into his body. The places Naruto touched would always burn, itch insistently. Each and every time Naruto touched him it was the same. It wasn't entirely unpleasant, the touches weren't something that he was used to. Or even if he'd like to get use to it.

Naruto should've been taken care of sooner.

It was only a matter of time until this distraction proved too much.

The whispers grew louder. They grew venomous and spiteful. They spoke of how Naruto was making their Kazekage weak. He was taking up valuable time that should've been used in conquering lands or making pacts to increase their land.

It was only a matter of time before the whispers took matters into their own hands.

1 Don't know if this is true, too lazy to look it up D:


End file.
